Death
O, sinner I'm c me by heav n's degree, my wa rant is to summon t e ,And whether thou ar pr p rel or no, this very right with me n ust go
SinnerOghastly Death but thou look'st pale and opens a do r to heaven or hell,Aadw lt thou not with m f b ar and spare me yet another year.
Death
My y ars and months are past and gon , you now must stand before the hroneTo give account of all thy ways, and how thou'st speat thy youthful days.
SinnerO Death, have mercy on my age and spare m yet upon the stage,I'm but a flower just in bloom, and wi l th u cut me down so soon.
Death
For youth or age I rever spare, and if thou look'st in yon Churchyard,Shu'lt see them there in hundreds lay whom I have made my sovereign prey.
SinnerO Death, beh ld my parents dear stand round my bead with many a tear,And loth they are to part with me, a leafless, fruitless, barran tree.
Death
The tears of friends or parents dear thcaner blunt nor break my spear,niMy name is Death, my sting is sin, close thine eye and stretch thy limb.
SinnerIf time to me was to begin, I'd hate the road that leads to sin,And to the Lord I'd earnest prey, and wrestle to the break of day.
DeathThe Saviour thou hast grieved sore, and time with thee shall be no moreFor when the Lord did thee invite, the ways of sin were thy delight.
Sinner
O spare me Death a little space, that I may run a Christian raeeMethinks I my Saviour say, O spare him yet another day.
DeathThe Lord he bath long spared thee—a fruitless, leafless, barren tre-But heaven's command I must obey, and cut thee down this very day.
Sinner
O, Death, no mercy wilt thou show, but unto Jesus I will go,
Who lose triumphant from the grave, a guilty wretch like me to save.
Death
ough sin consigned thee to the grave, Jesus has died thy soul to save,blood did flow in streams divine to save that guilty soul of thine.SinnerAnd when that blood extracts the sting I'll turn my head and sweetly sing,To him who raised me when I fell, and saved my soul from sin and hell,
Death
The cress I see all stained with blood, I view the sufferiag Son of God,Whose precious blood was spilled for me on the Cross on iCalvary.
SinnerNow, Death thy sting I do defy, for lo! I see my Saviour nigh,Draw near, O Death, and strike the blow, and let me to my Suviour goGlory to God, I now do see that Death becomes a friend to me,To take me from this world of woe, and let me to my Saviour go.

Now all my friends whom I love dear, I hope you will to Christ draw near,And do not shed a tear for me, where Jusus Christ is I there shall be.My dying words do ot forget, but t n before it is too late,And seek the Lord untill you finb a change of heart and peace of mind

My weeping friends I now must part, giue me thy hand, give God thy hear ,Ad u y rien s a long farw , for now the love of God I feel,
O Mothero C st thou spotless maid, we sinners make our prayers to thee.Re nd thy Son that he has paid, the price of our inquit,

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Old age & death

English ballads

Description

Collection of 2,300 broadside ballads, mostly printed in England in the 19th century. Topics range from courtship, crime, disasters and emigration to fashion, theatre, politics, laments sports and old age. Includes ballads on Scotland and Ireland. Part of the Crawford Collections on deposit from the Balcarres Heritage Trust.

Attribution and copyright:

Reproduced with permission from materials on loan to the National Library of Scotland from the Balcarres Heritage Trust.

More information

Form / genre:

Miscellaneous > Ephemera > Broadsides

Dates / events:

1800-1900 [Date printed]

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